


but with a whimper

by eboltz



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eboltz/pseuds/eboltz
Summary: It’s been a very long time since Auston has laughed this much.He’s starting to realize how much he let his friendships go because of how jealous he was. He’d stopped letting them in, stopped going for drinks after the game, stopped being himself.But Mitch doesn't say anything about that - he’s just there to make him laugh and eat terrible cheat food with him and let him talk about it in his own time. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t judge.Auston is sad, but he might be okay.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	but with a whimper

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written something, so please be gentle. 
> 
> I've had these two rattling around my brain, and after the game last night I just needed to get something out. 
> 
> May or may not be me processing some stuff in my own life at the same time..
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

-

He doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. 

He’s out of words for how he feels - out of thoughts, out of hopes, out of time.

He’s tired of feeling like there’s something crawling just under the surface of his skin every time he starts to think about it too hard. 

He’s so tired.

-

He’s heard something about it ending not with a bang but with a whimper. That sounds about right. 

In the end, it ends as it's always gone - with quiet resignation and things mostly left unsaid. Standing together in the shower, his face buried in the neck he can still cling to for however long it takes for the water to run cold and for this to all just stop. 

He can’t breathe, but at the same time, maybe he can start breathing for the first time in a long time. 

He’s never felt so _sad_ before. Everything is raw and painful and he hasn’t been alone in such a long time. 

But, at the same time, he’s been alone for a long time. 

As he dries his back, he thinks about the future stretching out in front of him, wide and unexpected, unanticipated. 

-

He calls Mitch on the long drive back across the city to the condo he hasn’t slept in for months. 

He doesn't know what to say - so he just says the truth. He has to focus on the road, he can’t break down now, but it’s so nice to just… talk.. And process. And speak some of the truths he’d held buried so far down that he didn’t know they were there until they were all he could think, breathe, speak. 

Mitch is quiet, but he’s also just there. There in a way so simple and unexpected and so real that maybe that is what makes Auston ask him to come stay with him for a few days while he adjusts to being alone.

Mitch says yes.

-

It’s been a very long time since Auston has laughed this much.

He’s starting to realize how much he let his friendships go because of how jealous _he_ was. He’d stopped letting them in, stopped going for drinks after the game, stopped being himself.

But Mitch doesn't say anything about that - he’s just there to make him laugh and eat terrible cheat food with him and let him talk about it in his own time. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t judge. 

Auston is sad, but he might be okay.

-

He still doesn't know what to do with himself.

He still doesn’t have the right words. 

He’s still tired.

He still hurts.

-

One day he wakes up and doesn't immediately reach for the warm body that’s not there beside him.

He breathes in the silence, the quiet that’s around him.

He smiles.

-

Mitch picks him up for practice that day. Auston didn’t need to ask - Mitch knows how much he hates driving in Toronto. 

He passes Auston a coffee when he gets in the car - black, one sugar, perfect - and just lets Auston watch the city out the window. 

It’s always amazed Auston how Mitch just gets when he doesn’t want to talk - Mitch, who never seems to shut up most of the time will just know on sight when Auston needs quiet. 

Auston reaches over and squeezes Mitch’s knee just once, quickly. He can’t make words happen right now, but he needs Mitch to know he’s thankful for the coffee, for the quiet, for _him_. 

In that half second, he feels how warm Mitch is, feels the muscle under his hand jump a little bit at the contact. Realizes how touch starved he is. Wants to put his hand back. But goes back to his coffee and the city and just breathes. 

-

They win, they win, they win. 

Sometimes they lose. 

But even in the losses he and Mitch are connecting at a level they haven’t in a long time. With anyone else he’d just call it a great pass or a lucky bounce or just being in the right place at the right time. 

Maybe it looks like that from the outside. 

But he can _feel_ Mitch’s presence on the ice, can sense what he’s going to do before he does it. 

He knows Mitch is going to pass it back to him even when everything and everyone around them thinks he’s going to shoot. He’s ready to rip the puck over Koskinen’s shoulder before he’s even sent the pass to Mitch in the first place. 

Take that, Connor.

-

They win and they lose and Auston still doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Mitch picks him up and brings him coffee and doesn’t push him to talk and they keep creating beautiful hockey together and they laugh and, and, and.

And Auston feels a piece slowly click into place. 

-

He doesn't know what to do with his hands. 

Mitch is over at his place after an afternoon skate, and he’s wearing this sweater. It looks like the softest thing in the world, and Auston keeps having to sit on his hands to not just reach out and touch.

He must be staring, because Mitch stops messing with the controller and just turns to look at him. “What?”

Auston swallows. “New sweater?”

Mitch looks down at himself. Then up at Auston. Then down at himself. “Yeah.”

“It looks soft.” Auston immediately wishes he were anywhere else.

Mitch just smiles, wide and bright. 

If they spend the rest of the night with Mitch’s side pressed right up against Auston’s, there’s no one there to see it.

-

Mitch picks him up for practice. Mitch drives him home from practice. Mitch brings him coffee. Mitch doesn’t make him talk when he doesn't want to. And the whole time, that smile is constant, so bright, so damn sweet. 

-

One morning, Auston gets up early. He feels the emptiness in the condo, but it doesn’t feel oppressive, doesn’t feel sad. It feels like it’s waiting for something. Someone.

He makes his coffee. He stands at the window and watches as Toronto below him wakes up from it’s snow-coated sleep. 

He makes a decision.

-

He doesn’t know what to do with himself as he waits for Mitch to pick him up for practice. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself as they go through line rushes, conditioning skates, and the rest of the practice. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he waits the centuries-long millisecond between asking Mitch if he wants to get lunch and him saying yes. 

But when the answer does come, he knows it’ll be ok.

-

They say that things end not with a bang but with a whimper. 

Auston knows that might be true, but what about how things start? 

Maybe things start with laughter and coffee and quiet. Maybe they start with perfect passes and shattering glass and the weight of an entire city’s expectations. Maybe they start right here, in Auston’s condo, over a plate of pasta.

He looks at Mitch. Mitch looks at him. 

They smile.

The future stretches out in front of him, of them, wide, full of expectation, of anticipation.

  
  



End file.
